Gundam Crucible - [An AU Universal Century Quest]

[X] Shore Leave
-[X] Tell your team to go do their own thing. Spend time with your mother.

"So, team leader, got anything planned?" Eris asks you as you all don't your civvies, about to board the tram to the colony interior, "Team building exercises? Some onboarding for the newbie? Oh, I've got some great ideas for a sim we can run with her!"

Those are all great ideas. Eris is a great second-in-command, but…

"No. I'm going to spend time with my mother." You answer tiredly, "You all can use your leave however you want."

"Wait, seriously?" Eris is taken aback, "We don't even know how well Rita will work with us. If we don't train with her, we won't know until it's time to sortie!"

Rita smooths out her skirt and runs her hands through her hair. You catch a glimpse of pale scars on her scalp.

"No offense to you, Eris, but I doubt it would matter." The Cyber Newtype comments nonchalantly, "I'm not much of a team player. We'll figure things out on the fly. I'm glad for this anyways, I wanted to spend some time with Michele before she headed back to Hong Kong."

Eris looks between you and Rita in exasperation, before groaning in defeat.

"Fine. On your head be it."

She moves over to Theo and you hear them talking about checking out a weapons convention a few islands over.

"And you?" You look at Mort, "What're you doing, Mort? Got a hot date?"

He flushes a bit, "As a matter of fact… yeah. Yeah, I do. Remember when I went to visit a friend in Hong Kong? She's in Londenion for work. We were going to meet up."

You were just joking. Mort has a date?! And it's with a girl from Earth? And apparently, he visited the same person in Hong Kong?

"Wow," you grin, lightly punching him in the shoulder, "How long have you been keeping her under wraps? We didn't know that you had a girlfriend!"

He gives you a sheepish smile, laughing awkwardly, "Well I wouldn't call us a pair quite yet. She's not exactly exclusive, and we started off as pen pals."

"Pen pals? For how long?"

You're awfully curious how long he's been writing letters to this girl!

"About a year or so before we left Cascadia." He says, "We've been writing more frequently ever since we switched to email."

Makes sense. The courier shuttle that ran the mail between Cascadia and the nearest intact Side was notoriously unreliable, often delaying correspondence for weeks due to maintenance issues and damage from the debris field.

"Well, good luck Mort. We believe in you." You give him a thumbs up.

"Thanks, Cybele. That means a lot." He nods, "Good luck with your mom. Is she doing any better?"

Your mother…. Well, she's….

---

You find her sitting down and staring listlessly out the open window. Her room looks nice, with pale tan wallpaper and padded furniture, one of the more comfortable rooms in the hospital. Still, it is in the mental ward…

"Hey mom." You rap your knuckles on the open door after she doesn't acknowledge your presence, "It's me. Cybele. Have you been alright?"

She takes a moment to react, turning to face you.

She looks tired.

"...Cybele." She smiles faintly, "I've been fine. How about you, dear?"

You walk over and lean against the wall, "You know me. Just handling each day as they come."

You survey the room, noticing the pill bottles on her bedside and a stack of newspapers next to it.

"I've been following the news." She says quietly, "You've been busy, haven't you?"

Heh. That's an understatement.

"Just trying to make the Earth Sphere a better place. Just like Dad."

"Just like your father, hm?" She reached out to touch your arm, running her hand along the jacket. Dad's old jacket. It's far too big for you, but… it feels right.

"You know, when your father first told me what he was doing, I told him that he should stop." She sighs, "He had a family, and what he was doing could get him killed. But he said that he needed to do it. To make the Earth Sphere a better place."

"You mean joining the AEUG?" You ask, and your mother looks at you, almost in… confusion? But it passes and she nods.

"Yes, yes of course." She says, "The AEUG. The Titans controlled our colony, of course, so he had to be discreet about things. He had to keep up appearances."

Oh? So he kept his membership a secret from the Titans? You wonder how he pulled that off.

"Remember Uncle Alexey?" She asked. You nod. Of course you remember him. He wasn't your uncle, just your father's friend. Still, you all treated him like family, and he always brought gifts. Most of your old Federation posters were from him.

"Well, Uncle Alexey was actually your father's coworker." She continues, "He worked with your father in the Titans."

Oh. That would explain why he vanished after the Gryps War. Your mother said he moved to another colony.

"Remember how we always told you and your brother never to mention your father's AEUG work around Uncle Alexey?"

Oooh. Oh. You get it now.

"How long was he living a double life?" You ask, curious about this tale of deception and espionage.

"A while, right up until the Federation disavowed the Titans."

Guess it made sense to cut ties with the Titans at that point…

"Must have been pretty chaotic at the time." You reach into your pocket and pull out your father's old ID, "Dad's badge was still valid back in that Titans facility. They didn't even remember to clear him out of their system."

She looks at that oddly in silence for a few long seconds.

"Yes." She says, "It was a confusing time for us all… it probably was just forgotten in their panic to leave."

You hold it out to your mother, who gently takes it in her hand. She stares quietly at the picture of your father on the badge.

"Oh Silas…" she sighs.

You let her have a moment as you take a look out the window. She's got a nice view of the hospital's courtyard. There are a handful of patients walking around the small garden, with nurses tending to some of the more immobilized individuals. You think you see a couple of Alex Team down there.

"So Mom, my day is free. Want to go anywhere?"

You look at her hopefully as she ponders your question.

"That… I would like that. The food here is okay, but I'm craving a good gyro."

"A good gyro? In Londenion?" You smirk, "I doubt anything can beat Old Man Odysseus's down on Fifth, but sure, I'll see what I can find."

A quick consultation with the reception desk, and you have a recommendation. Excited to spend time with your mother, you head out with her to the restaurant.

…

The gyros are just decent. It satisfies a craving, but neither of you will go there again.

---

You take a deep breath and rap twice on the door.

"Come in," Kamille calls from inside his office.

"Hey doc." You slip inside and shut the door behind you, "Do you have a minute?"

"I don't know, do I have a minute for the protege of Haman Karn, infamous war criminal?" He gives you a tired look, "I know I have a minute for Cybele Naese, patient."

Oh. Okay. That's fine, you weren't going to ask for anything even remotely related.

"It's actually neither. Do you have a minute for a daughter of a patient?" You ask, "I'm just wondering how my mother is doing."

He sighs, "Ms. Naese, a different doctor is handling your mother. I can't speak as to her prognosis, but I did talk to her recently."

Kamille leans back in his chair, "She's better than when you brought her in. The Psychiatrist taking care of her seems to be optimistic. She still won't acknowledge that Kaylen Naese is deceased, but she just changes the subject or ignores the topic now, instead of vehemently insisting otherwise. So… it's an improvement."

An improvement. All this time and only just an improvement?

…

Well, you guess it has only been a few weeks. But still!

"Can't you do anything else?" You ask in exasperation, "Isn't there some kind of pill you can give her, or maybe therapy, or… I dunno, something?!"

Kamille massages the bridge of his nose, "Ms. Naese, there isn't a pill for everything, and certainly not for this. Mental trauma has no silver bullet. You need to approach each case in a different manner. Trust me, we are doing the best we can for your mother, but she hasn't come to terms yet with Kaylen's death, just as you haven't."

You bristle at that. How dare he?

"What do you mean? Of course I've come to terms with it! I'm not fooling myself into thinking he's alive or anything like that!" You snap at him, "My brother was murdered by the little asshole prick Luke! I've totally come to terms with that! Completely! In fact, I'll be even more to terms with it when I tear him out of his cockpit and shoot him in his stupid face!"

Kamille stares at you.

"…I see…" He looks away, "Our next session is tomorrow, Ensign. Don't forget."

"Yeah yeah, I'll be there." You wave dismissively as you turn to leave, "See you later, doc."

You slam the door a bit too hard on your way out. Oops. You almost turn back to open and re-close the door, but there's no point. You'll just own it, and hope that Kamille doesn't read too much into that.

---

He does and you spend an hour the next day talking about anger management.


[X] Mission Prep

-[X] Train your Newtype powers with Haman. She can unlock your potential.

"So, when do I get to summon cool Psycho-Fields on command to make shields and stuff?" You ask your spectral mentor, "I mean, it can't be that hard, right?"

"Hard is relative." Haman says sternly, "Being a Newtype is more than just about empathy and reading minds, it's also about Willpower. Your Determination to shape the world into what you envision."

"That's… pretty high level," you remark as you lean back in the chair, eyeing the equipment attached to the headrest as it points lights and various instruments at your face, "but how do I do that, practically?"

Beyond the room's wide window, you see the Anaheim technician give you the signal to start anytime. He looks kind of impatient. You just give him an irritated glare back. This shit isn't something you can toggle at will!

"Think of it like this," Haman offers, "Your emotions are the fuel for your power, and the strength of them directly influences what force you can exert. You have plenty of that, but where you currently fall short is your conviction, which serves as the ignition and the control. Without strong conviction, you either can't exert your powers at all, or you run the risk of a runaway Psycommu feedback loop."

You lack conviction? Like hell you do. You're totally dedicated to being a great pilot and an awesome Newtype!

"Okay, so I'm not determined enough." You throw up your hands in exasperation, "How exactly am I supposed to fix that?"

"You need something to focus you. A strong motivation."

"And avenging my brother's death isn't strong motivation?" You say dryly.

"It is, but it's targeted towards one individual. Not to mention, what happens when you've finally killed him? No, what you need is something broader. A loftier goal. I know you have the potential for such aspirations. I felt it when we first connected."

So, your driving motivation is too specific? Well… you guess that makes sense, but you don't want to admit that your resolve is so narrow-minded. Haman is right. Revenge for your brother aside, you need a higher goal. Something to strive for.

A goal, something to strengthen your resolve and conviction… you lean back in the chair and think, letting your mind wander. The sensors and other instruments begin to beep, and you tune them out as the world fades away.

You fall into the sea of stars, every light around you a soul. Londenion is a veritable gathering of bright beacons like yourself, Newtypes gathered from far and wide to resist Federation oppression.

"All these people, all these Spacenoids searching for their future," Haman says, almost in reverence, "Never before has there been a gathering of Newtypes on this scale. It almost galls me to admit that Londo Bell has accomplished something I never could."

"Well, pretty easy when we're all running from the Federation." You remark.

"True. You are all running. However, where are you running to?" She replies, "What sort of world do you want to see when the fighting is done? Admittedly, Bright Noa has come far, but he does not have an encouraging track record when it comes to reconstruction. After the One Year War, he was pushed aside and made to do menial errands. When the Gryps War ended, he let his influence slip away and accepted a position hamstrung by skittish politicians."

You reach out to the other minds in Londenion. You want to know what they think. Most of the other Newtypes barely notice you reach out, but three reply promptly.

"Bright is a soldier, not a politician." Judau's thoughts drift by, "He's not our enemy, but I don't know if he'll take the lead once we've won. Others may step up again."

"He's doing the best he can. Look at what he's built here, what he's protecting." Amuro's voice cuts in resolutely, "I trust Bright implicitly. You should too, Ensign."

You feel something, scorn and distrust, aimed at you… no, aimed at the presence beside you.

"Haman Karn…" Kamille's light is intense, a bonfire amongst candles that rivals Haman herself, "Digging your claws into Ms. Naese, I see?"

"I'm simply guiding a growing flame, Kamille Bidan." Haman scoffs, giving him the Newtype equivalent of a death glare, "A rising star like her needs a mentor, and I don't see you taking the lead."

Kamille replies with something scathing, but you tune them out as they begin to bicker.

What sort of future are you seeking? What sort of world do you want to live in when the war ends and the dust settles? Will that be your goal, your driving motivation?

What do you fight for?


[] [Resolve] The Federation must pay for what it's done to you, for what it's done to everyone. You won't rest until it has been dismantled so thoroughly that nothing will rise from the ashes.

[] [Resolve] Newtypes deserve a world where they can seek happiness and freedom. You will create that world, no matter what you have to become to make it happen.

[] [Resolve] You want Sicilia to live a long, full, and happy life. You just want to protect her. Whatever you need to do to ensure her safety, you will.

[] [Resolve] MacDaniels has controlled the world from the shadows for too long. You will unmask their true nature and reveal them for what they are, before destroying them!


Yes. That sounds right. You've found your driving force.

Well, you just need to stay like this for a little longer. Rhea said that she didn't need to forge that much Psychoframe for you, so just 50 or so minutes more and you should be good to go.
…
Man, you can't imagine Sicilia will like this process. The girl can barely sit still for a minute. It's all you can do not to let your mind wander.

"-and what have you done with your potential, boy? Playing doctor? How quaint. Such talent and power, squandered."

"Maybe, but I'm still alive, hag. Can you say the same?"

"Such impudence! It's not how long one lives, but what you do with your life that matters! Your actions now hardly-!"

They are not helping you focus. Not at all.


[X] Extra

-[X] Talk to Artesia and the Zeon Republic pilots before they leave.

Finding Artesia and her entourage of Zeon Republic pilots is easy. Their presence here was coincidental to begin with, castaways that Londo Bell picked up. They were always going to go home, but they had to wait for their ride.

So as the Astraia pulled into the port, you caught them waiting at the terminal.

"Lady Artesia!" You call out to her as the Prime Minister and her entourage mill around, gathering luggage and other personal effects from where they were waiting.

"Oh, Ms. Naese." Artesia nods with acknowledgement, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted a word with all of you before you leave." You say eagerly, looking between her, Captain Montagne, and the assorted Puru sisters, "I wanted to thank you for all your help, and… maybe ask for some advice."

"Fly better!" Lutetia shouts from the edge of the group.

"I can do as much for the girl who saved my friends." Artesia smiles a little, "It feels odd to have you thanking us when we should be thanking you."

"We're thanking each other then," you counter, "Allies do that. So… I need some advice."

It takes a moment to muster up the courage, but… you need to ask this. It's been bothering you.

"Lady Artesia, how… How can I protect my teammates?" You ask hesitantly, "One of my friends, Lorelei, she was badly hurt in the last battle. She almost died. Most of your fellow pilots from White Base are still alive, though… how did you all do it?"

She looks uncomfortable at first, then understanding. With regret in her eyes, she shakes her head.

"Cybele, I know it might seem like that since the exact details of the White Base's journey were never made public, but… I've lost my fair share of friends."

Artesia motions for you to sit down on the bench as she moves to do so. You sit, hands folded, and look to her.

"You can't protect everyone. You can do your best, but in the end the battlefield cannot be completely controlled." She takes your hand, "Every time we sit in the cockpit, we're risking our lives. You know that, your friends know that. The reality is, no one is safe. Each time we sortie might be our last… but you can't dwell on that. If you obsess over making sure your friends survive, they might just die because of it."

"That… I don't understand." You reply, confused, "How can worrying about it cause it?"

"You second-guess yourself. You hesitate… Cybele, don't you realize it? You haven't lost anyone so far. Even though one of your team members is hospitalized, she's still alive. Most Mobile Suit teams would have lost one or more of their pilots at this point."

You look into her eyes, "I lost Kaylen."

"That… is true." She looks away for a moment, "But you've grown since then. You're obviously a better leader than you were back then. I trust you. Don't you trust yourself?"

You don't have a good answer to that. Do you trust yourself? You guess so, but… if you lost one of your friends the same way you lost your brother…

"…Thanks, Lady Artesia. I guess I feel a bit better." You lie, "I hope we see each other again… maybe one day I'll fly for you instead of Londo Bell."

"Maybe," She nods at that, "I have a feeling, though, that you'll excel exactly where you are."

Your gaze turns to the Astraia outside the terminal windows. Where it was once pristine, like when you first saw it, now it's marred with battle damage that scars its crimson hull.

You guess it's a bit like all of you. Nothing escapes this war untouched, but… you hope that you're heading down the right path, that there isn't something horrid waiting for you down the line.

---

The cavern is dark, yet somehow you can see. Water is slowly flooding into the space, covering the floor. There's a person standing in the middle, and you gradually get a better look at them as they try to back away from the encroaching water. It's… Garma Zabi? And your vision looks like some kind of old timey film…

"H-Hello? Is somebody there?" Garma calls out, frightened and nervous, "Hello? Someone?! Hello?!!"

There's movement above, a man stands on a ledge overlooking the flooding chamber. It's impossible to see who he is, but he says gravely, "God rest your soul."

"Char? Is that you?!" Garma shouts in a panic as the water rises to his waist, "Char, I seem to be in a little bit of trouble! Please save me, I don't wanna die!"

The man stares silently at the drowning Garma.

"I'm scared! I'll do anything, Char!" Garma continues to beg, the water up to his chest.

"Anything?" The stranger asks expectantly with a grin.

"Anything for you, Char!" Garma smiles cheerfully.

"Then…" The light pans over the man, revealing Char Aznable as he whips off helmet, revealing the bright blue eyes of the son of Zeon Deikun, "PERISH."

Garma's head is swallowed by the water as he flails and burbles pathetically. Char laughs and laughs and-


"Big Sis? Big Sis? Wake up!"

"Bwuh?!" You sit upright, drenched in cold sweat. You look about in confusion, until seeing Sicilia. She just woke you up… Oh, you were having a bad dream.

"You were groaning in your sleep," She explains with concern, "Are you okay?"

"…Yeah. Just a nightmare." You sigh. That's the last time you let Eris show you documentaries on old Earth culture before bed.

Glancing at the clock, you see that it's almost time to wake up anyways. The last few days have just flown by, and the Bellerophon departs today for the long patrol.

You really hope that this doesn't turn out to be as boring as you fear it will be.

---

Your new ReZELs are being loaded into the Bellerophon's hangar as your team guides them into their new berths.

"A little farther back-! Hold-! Slowly now!" The technician in charge of the hangar shouts at the other staff using Petits to ease the MS into the docking clamps. You stand with your team by the yawning doors, checking over the manifests to make sure that all your equipment is properly loaded and stowed before departure.

"Cybele!" Christina calls out as she floats into the hangar, box in one hand and the other arm in a sling, "Catch!"

She tosses the box your way, and you catch it as it drifts into your group.

"Just a little care package for you all!" She explains as she uses her freed hand to grab a tool cart and halt her movement, "You're all probably going to be deployed for a while, so just in case we don't see each other in time, I put some Christmas presents for you in there."

"Christmas? That's still a ways off…" You mutter as you inspect the cardboard box, sloppily sealed with packing tape, "Thanks, Christina."

She smiles, and you exchange a wave, before she kicks off the deck and heads back out.

"It's gonna be different flying without her." Theo remarks nervously, "It was always a little reassuring, knowing that we had a veteran backing us up."

"Don't sell yourselves short," Mort cuts in with a grin, "You four fly better than most of the guys I flew with back in Cascadia."

"…Four?" Rita does a headcount, "You're missing someone."

"Um, no offense, but…" Mort flinches with a sheepish smile, "I haven't seen your piloting skills. I didn't fight you during that last sortie, I only saw you in action at the helm of a Mobile Armor, and that's not really a good reference point."

Rita frowns, crossing her arms as she glares at him, "Well then, I'll just have to prove myself to you. You better prepare yourself."

He laughs nervously. Poor guy. She's going to wreck him in the simulators.

"Well, that was nice of Christina to get us gifts," you hand the box to Sicilia who begins to open it with a multitool, "You think she got a gift for Rita too?"

"I don't mind if she didn't." The Cyber Newtype in question waves off your concern, "I almost killed her recently, after all. Besides, she said it was a care package, right? I'm sure it's got more stuff than just early Christmas gifts."

Sicilia gets it open and peers inside, "Yeah, it does! Hamburger patties."


[][Secret] The Wolf

[][Secret] The Bird

Merry Christmas, everyone!